Friends in High Places
by Halfagod
Summary: Fate hated Peter Parker. Maybe it wasn't obvious at first, but after months of near death experiences and life threatening injuries, no one could deny it. So when Peter rescues a victim from the evil clutches of Flash's gang, he was not aware that he gained a new ally and, in turn, saved himself from Fate. Maybe destinies are not set in stone, after all.


**This is an idea I had awhile ago. It's my first Spidey fanfic, so I would appreciate it if you could leave an honest comment. No flames unless you want "Discouraged an Aspiring Writer" labeled to your conscience. **

**Disclaimer: Spider-man and Co belong to Marvel. **

* * *

Peter slowly strolled through the busy halls of his school, hands in his pockets. A jaunty tune crept out of his lips as he maneuvered around the many gossiping crowds.

He was in a terribly good mood today. After a quick patrol yesterday night, he had hacked at his pile of assignments and finished the majority of the small mountain. The well-needed rest also contributed to his bright attitude. Now, all he needed to do was to find Gwen and ask her about the school dance.

A large commotion jolted Peter from his musings. He should've known his luck would never last that long.

Hurrying down to the end of the corridor, Peter found Flash and his cronies tightly packed together and laughing in a very insane manner. They were also doing some sort of enraged bull imitation. That could possibly be the reason why everyone skirted around the questionably sane jocks.

Figuring that they were beating up yet another helpless kid, (the morons probably didn't have enough brain cells to learn their lesson the first time) he shoved one of the lumps aside. What greeted him on the inside of the Jerk circle made him draw back suddenly.

A sad looking house spider waved a partially flattened leg apprehensively at him. The brownish arachnid bared its fangs and scuttled away quickly as a large sneaker narrowly missed from squashing it into a goopy mess.

There were no laws around torturing spiders, yet Peter could not allow this group of bullies to murder a life and get away with it. He knelt down and gently brushed the small creature into his waiting hands. The spider shivered happily as it butted its head affectionately against Peter's palm.

Peter glared at Flash. A flicker of uncertainty crossed the jock's eyes. It was all Peter needed to continue.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Me and the guys were just messing around when we saw the spider so we-" Flash was cut off by Brian, Flash's second in command.

"Heh," Brian sneered. "Why are we talking to Puny Parker? Have you gone soft Flash?" The brown haired teen sneered and crossed his hairy arms. "Just so you know, _Parker,_ we saw the revolting thing crawling up my locker. The sucker needed to know who the boss around here was."

Peter's response was laced with layers of ice. "Shove it or I'll show you who's boss."

All of the bullies (except Flash) snickered as Brian leaned toward him. His breath reeked of moldy cheese and onions. "Looks like wittle Pete has grown a backbone. I'm so terrified I'm just _trembling_ in my shoes."

Peter wondered if his uncle would be disappointed if he eviscerated Brain like a fish.

Shaking his head at his asinine thinking, -of course his uncle would be disappointed- Peter attempted to muscle his way out of the herd of meatballs. His escape was immediately thwarted by three brick walls.

Peter fixed them with a cold, hard stare that was usually reserved for his alter ego.

"_Move."_

His threat fell on deaf ears. A giant meaty fist swung toward Peter's head, forcing him to shroud the spider with his two hands and duck under Brian's arm. Gracefully, he swept Brian's left foot out from under him, resulting in a thunderous crash. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Flash gathered up anyone who would follow him and beat a hasty retreat. Flash knew Peter could be downright terrifying when provoked, having learnt that first hand. Maybe you could teach an old dog new tricks.

Peter raised an eyebrow at Brian. "The bell is going to ring soon."

Snarling, Brian shoved him against a locker hard enough to leave a permanent dent in the metal.

"Flash has lost his touch. He has no more vindictive drive, none at all. He doesn't want to pound nerds into pancakes or wangle money for lunch. He's _changed_." The spittle from his mouth sprayed all over Peter's clean hair, leaving him with a disgruntled frown.

In truth, he was impressed with the eclectic range of vocabulary Brian had shown. Perhaps the burly quarterback was not as dull as he imagined. His uppercut wasn't too shabby. The guy could probably even be downright terrifying to some of his peers.

However, Peter wasn't just anyone. Too bad he couldn't prove it, lest he blow his cover.

"You're lucky I'm a bit of a pragmatist," Peter snarked. "I need to get this spider somewhere safe. Otherwise, I would've shown you exactly _why _Flash has 'changed'." Peter flashed a dangerous smile. "Goodbye."

He twirled elegantly around the many angry fists and slid out the nearest exit. An enraged "PARKER!" had him hurrying to the proud oak that guarded the Biology class. The thick tree tickled the roof of the two story school, its emerald leaves waving in the summer breeze. Best of all, it had many gnarly roots that could provide a home for the arachnid in his palm.

Gingerly, he brushed the spider onto one of the protruding roots. "You're free, little fella," Peter softly whispered. "Stay out of trouble, alright?"

The arthropod gave his a wave that looked suspiciously like a salute and squeezed itself into a nook.

Peter stood up and dusted off the dirt particles that clung to his jeans. He reckoned he still had 5 minutes before-

"BRIIIING!" There was the signal for the start of class.

The Fates absolutely hated him.

* * *

The Fates absolutely hated Peter Parker. This was evidently obvious, the spider decided, as the boy had a knack for getting in trouble.

Ever since that fateful day when the Young Master saved him from a horrible end, he had taken it upon himself to spread the news and quietly watch over the interesting boy. He wasn't the only one.

All of the arachnids could feel a certain liking for Peter. None of them knew why. Spiders were not supposed to have feelings. They were the tough predators of the grassy jungle, both vicious and cunning. They could not experience pain; they were apparently incapable of producing emotions.

Yet why did they feel so… so helpless when the kid donned the suit of two colours and was used as a volleyball among his many predators? Even those of them with lesser eyesight could see the intensity of the life and death situations this kid placed himself in.

Why did he do it?

And why did the Spider Nation care?

The spider knew the answer to the first question. His young master was protecting his mate and defending his territory from intruders.

But why did the spiders, of all shapes and sizes, agree to help him rescue a human?

He stared at the unconscious boy currently strapped into an odd looking metal tree. The spider couldn't help but sympathize with the young man. Being trapped and constrained was not his idea of a fun Sunday evening.

A gentle poke from a Brown Recluse brought him out of his train of thoughts. He nodded his thanks to the female. As temporary leader of the SPPS, (Save Peter Parker Society) he needed to maintain a clear head.

His eyes raked past the many spiders that were on this mission and shifted to the ground. From his spot on the rafters, he could see the human in the shiny silver harness tapping away at the big screen. Quietly, he wondered if the man liked having four polychaete worm-like things protruding out of his back.

A hiss of pain brought his attention back to the boy. A wave of apprehension slid across the gathered spiders as they watched their young lord awaken.

"_Octavius,_" He squirmed in the bonds that constricted him. "What in the name of Norman Osborn are you going to do to me?"

The shrewd villain sneered. "Don't mention that incompetent fool. He was never destined for anything great. However, I'm going to analyze your genetic make-up to create an army of super human soldiers that bow to _me. _Then everyone will know of the genius who took down 'The Great Spider-man'._"_

Peter turned a sickly shade of green as the psychopath wielding a very large needle approached him. The sinister scientist had his back to the unknown battalion of spiders. That was a terrible mistake on Otto's part.

On his silent command, thousands of spiders crept toward the unsuspecting figure of one Doctor Octavius. The moving black carpet branched out as Portia led the jumping spiders to the computers, Lyco and his fellow wolf spiders wrecked havoc among the doctor's very important notes and the house spider himself commanded the frontal assault on the doctor.

_This was going to be fun._

* * *

Peter desperately tugged on the metal bonds that kept him imprisoned as the deranged Octavius dramatically launched into an evil monologue. Honestly, Peter thought the man was smarter than that. Heroes had a tendency of worming their way out of impossibly tricky situations.

However, Peter was rather sure this could in fact be his last day in the Living Realm. He had no one to back him up. Nobody knew where he was. He had been on patrol when Octavius had popped out of nowhere and knocked the living daylights out of him. The attack had been so unexpected and fast that his spider sense had been rendered useless. By the time anyone noticed his absence he would be a long dead human guinea pig. Out of all the possible sticky ends, Fate had to give him this one.

He ceased his silent mourning as the mad doctor stopped bragging.

The silver needle glinted as Octavius brought the syringe down in a fluid motion.

A squelching sound echoed through the air. Cracking open an eye he didn't know he closed, he saw something as bizarre as it sounded.

The needle had not entered his bicep; it had speared the many crab spiders that had been camouflaged on his left arm. How did he not notice the little creatures crawling up his sleeve?

Both Peter and Otto came to their senses at the same time.

Hordes of glittering black arachnids swarmed the floors. They were clustering the machines, gnawing on the pipes, and just making general havoc.

Octavius stumbled when a squad of Black Widows, Bolas spiders and Brown recluses led by a… common house spider congregated around his legs, both metal and non-metal. Peter could swear he had seen the house spider somewhere before…

The leader quickly waved out orders as the Bolas spiders wrapped their sticky webbing around the metal appendages, firmly sticking them to the floor. The rest of the troop marched to the doctor himself. They were all poisonous and highly lethal. The scientist looked on with wordless horror as he found that he could not move his beloved mechanical arms.

The dangerous arachnids pounced upon the subdued man in a crazed frenzy, biting and tearing at every exposed surface of skin.

Otto Octavius screamed.

From Peter's previous knowledge of Black Widows and Brown Recluses, he knew they were highly venomous. Spider bites were supposedly to feel like a pinprick. The bite of that many spiders ought to be extremely agonizing.

Peter felt the clenching bonds open and tumbled out unsteadily. The various machines were all smoking in an unhealthy manner while most of the spiders crawled away and disappeared from sight. The spider leader dismissed the remaining few and ambled to Peter's outstretched arm. Octavius lay on the floor, groaning from the pain. He wouldn't be up anytime soon.

Peter kicked a hole in the abandoned warehouse/makeshift lab and climbed out into the night with the spider in hand.

The soft hue of the moon illuminated his savior, giving him a sense of déjà vu. This Spider Commander was in fact the same arachnid he had rescued from Flash and his jerks a few months ago. The small creature stared up at him intelligently, a mischievous twinkle in its eye.

"Thank you," Peter gratefully said.

The spider nodded its head.

Gently, Peter placed his friend onto the ground. It gave him a little wave and scuttled off into the scraggly yellow grass.

This had been a very peculiar day.

Peter, however, was used to such oddities. A life as a hero was never dull. It was filled to the brim with narrow scrapes with Death. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he shot a strand of pearlescent webbing at a nearby building and began his long trek home.


End file.
